On Cell Phones

I think a lot of valid arguments can be made that cell phones are out of control. It’s gotten to the point that everyone seems to have one.

Or maybe I should say at least one. I had a real estate agent last year who carried two of them and a pager.

Is anyone really that important?

No matter where you go, you see someone with his cell phone pasted to the side of his head blabbing away, often oblivious to what’s going on around him. Or even funnier: apparently blabbing away to himself because he’s wearing some kind of fancy Bluetooth earpiece that looks suspiciously like communications head gear from the orginal Star Trek.

Do these people really need to be talking while they’re shopping for groceries, standing on line in the post office, crossing the street or — dare I say it — piloting their car through a crowded parking lot?

Does everyone need a cell phone? Even kids have them now. Heck, when I was a kid, it was a real treat to have an extension of the house phone in my bedroom. I didn’t have my own phone number, a number that would reach me any time of the day or night wherever I was.

Am I jealous of today’s kids and their cellphones? Hell, no! What’s so good about being reachable anywhere you are when you’re a teenager out goofing off with your friends?

I do, of course, have a cell phone. It’s for business — and I’m not just saying that. I set up my office phone number so I can forward it to my cell phone when I’m not at the office. People call that published number and reach me. I’ve booked more than a few helicopter flights on that phone.

And I do use the phone when I need information or need to tell someone something. Going to be late for an appointment? I call. Can’t find the street I’m supposed to turn on? I call. Need to know if we have any plans for next Tuesday night? I call. According to my phone bill, more than 80% of the calls I make last less than a minute.

The important word here is need. I use my cell phone when I need to. I don’t use it for idle chatter. There’s two reasons for that. First, I like to be comfortable when I’m chatting with a friend or family member. So I usually do it from home. Second, lengthy chats wear down the phone’s battery. A dead cell phone won’t meet my communication needs.

And no, I won’t buy the second battery pack. Or the colorful face plate or case. Or latest ring tone.

What’s with the ring tone thing anyway? I think that’s the most obnoxious part of cell phone usage.

We’ve all experienced this: You’re sitting in a restaurant with a friend/spouse/family, having a nice dinner, when the cell phone the idiot at the table behind you owns starts playing the cha-cha or the opening bars of a Def Leppard track or some digitized sound effect that sounds like a primal scream. He thinks its funny. Do you?

I don’t. I think it’s a selfish attempt to get attention at the expense of the people around him.

I read somewhere recently that people have no qualms about plunking down $10 for a ring tone but they hesitate when it comes to buying a new CD. (If anyone out there can find that piece online, please use the Comments link to share the URL; I can’t find it.)

My phone, a 1-1/2 year old Motorola flip phone, has a vibrate mode. Since I wear it on my belt, I feel it when it rings. If I don’t pick it up after a few moments, it plays a sound that’s kind of like a doorbell. A simple little chime. I’m not saying its not obnoxious — any sound a device makes in a public place is obnoxious — but it’s far less offensive than some. And frankly, every time I hear it in a public place and someone looks at me, I’m embarrassed. I don’t want to be seen as one of them. (And we all know who they are.)

Mike’s got one of those Razr phones. He says people are envious of him. The phone is extremely thin, has a built-in camera and e-mail features, and does more than my original computer did. (I’m sure it has more processing power, too.) But come on guys — it’s a phone. A phone.

I’d still have my original Motorola flip phone if it would work as well as the newer one. I liked it better. It was simpler and started up quicker. It was plain black and it didn’t have a color screen. It didn’t have to make a sound when you turned it on or shut it off. And it didn’t have a built-in camera, Internet capabilities, Bluetooth, and dozens of ring tones to choose from. It was a simple, small, easy to use phone. Like the original Princess phones. Although it no longer is connected to any network, it’ll still work for 911 calls. So I keep it and its car power adapter in my car, just in case I need to make that emergency call and my other phone is dead.

That’s what cell phones were originally for, isn’t it? Emergencies?

Anyway, what started this whole rampage about cell phones was an article I read on Slate.com about fiction where the cell phone becomes the villain. It’s called “Can You Fear Me Now? – The cell phone goes from annoying to evil” and it’s by Bryan Curtis.

Some of the stories aren’t that farfetched, either.

10.6 Miles on Horseback

Four of us join Mike on his annual ride to Wickenburg Mountain.

Every winter, Mike takes Jake, his horse, on a ride to Wickenburg Mountain. Altough this mountain is only about 3 miles as the crow flies from our house, there’s no trail that goes right to it. Instead, you have to pick your way along a maze of trails that go up and over or around about a dozen ridges.

Wickenburg Mountain is not named Wickenburg Mountain on any map I have. I don’t know where Mike got that name for it. Someone probably called it that and Mike remembered the name. If you’re looking at a topo map for Wickenburg, it’s the 2977-foot peak at the north end of the Vulture Mountains, south of Turtleback Wash.

I don’t usually go with Mike on this ride. He’s out most of the day and he always brings back stories of bushwhacking through the desert. While there isn’t much bush to whack in the desert, riding off trails (which is what I mean here) can often take you to the edge of cliffs that even horses can’t climb down. I don’t enjoy putting my somewhat neurotic horse through that kind of experience, especially with me on his back.

But yesterday, he’d invited Janet and Steve, who were visiting from Colorado, and Hans, who has recently gotten over a broken ankle suffered when his horse fell on him. I thought it would be nice riding with a small group of friends, so I went along for the ride, too.

Also along for the ride were Jack the Dog and Janet and Steve’s two dogs, Tasha and Maggie. And when my neighbor’s dog, Trixie, saw us leaving, she decided to join us, too. Tasha wasn’t too happy about that and kept attacking her, but after a while, they calmed down and tolerated each other nicely.

We started out from our house, taking the trail beside my neighbor’s property that would take us into the state land south of our house. We rode familiar trails that dropped us into a tributary of Turtleback Wash, where a Jeep trail ran.

The ride up to that point had been pleasant, following trails we knew. It was a lightly overcast day, cool and comfortable. We saw some mule deer, which gave Jack something to chase. As I rode, I began stripping off a few outer layers. My horse was behaving well — which means he was behaving like most other horses, for a change. He was even trotting nicely when we trotted. And he hadn’t bitten the butt of the horse in front of us yet, either.

From the Jeep road, things got iffy. The road ran mostly northeast to southwest, but we needed to go southeast. But we followed the road southwest, looking for a trail or road that would branch off to the left. Steve was leading at that point and he led us right by a possible trail. I’d seen it but didn’t think it was a trail. It turned out to be an old mining road. We followed it in the right direction, climbing a steep hill. We paused near the top to rest the horses and give the dogs some water. Then we continued and, moments later, the road ended.

Dang.

Mike led and the bushwhacking began. We rode over steep, rocky terrain, past nasy cacti and thorny trees. We climbed, we descended. At one point, we reached what I thought was the edge of a cliff. But Mike steered Jake down it and Jake, the good horse that he is, just went. We followed.

Eventually, we ended up on another Jeep road in another wash. We could see Wickenburg Mountain and it was much closer. We even saw a string of four horses and riders coming down one of its old mining roads. But there were more hills to climb over or around. Fortunately, there were also a lot of roads. The trick was to pick the right ones.

We did pretty well. At one point, we rode up a steep piece of road and I heard Hans say, “Oh no. That looks like the kind of place we fell.” He was referring to his recent horse accident, when he tried to walk his horse up a steep hill and his horse slipped back and fell on him, breaking Hans’s angle and chipping numerous bones in the horse’s foot. We hurried up the hill and I was comforted to hear him right behind me.

Wickenburg Mountain Lunch SpotWe reached the base of the mountain and climbed on another road. About two thirds of the way up, on a road that wound past the front of the mountain’s peak, we stopped for lunch. We tied the horses to bushes along the road; they were so tired, they didn’t seem interested in moving. Then we sat down on the rocky slope, opened up our lunch bags, and ate.

Tasha and Trixie had a huge fight right behind my back, nearly knocking me over, but they broke it up when Mike squirted them with his water bottle. Then they settled down and rested. Jack the dog was smart and hung out in the shade.

Jake on Wickenburg MountainOur lunch spot had incredible views of Wickenburg several miles to the north and east of us. But for some reason, I didn’t take any of those pictures. I did get one of Jake with the town in the background, far in the distance. But most of the rest of the photos I took were for wickenburg-az.com, my so-called “labor of love,” which features random header images. To get just the right image, the photo needs to have something on the left and nothing much on the top right. Go to the site and keep refreshing the page to get an idea of what I’m looking for. The image changes on every page, every time it’s refreshed. There are about 20 images now and one blank image that I’m trying to remove.

(But Larry doesn’t want to read about this. I’m starting to talk too much about computers. Sorry, Larry.)

The back side of Wickenburg MountainAfter lunch, we mounted up again and continued on a trail that led to the back side of Wickenburg Mountain. The trail climbed up through beautiful Sonoran desert to a saddle between the mountain’s peak and a lesser outcropping. This is where I took my favorite photo of the day — this vertical shot of the peak’s side and some saguaro cacti. I was very surprised to see a fence and drag gate up there. Mike dismounted and handled the gate for us and we all squeezed through. On the other side of the fence was just a tiny bit of level ground before the land dropped off on a steep downhill slope. There was a trail and Mike led the way down it.

We wound around the back of the mountain and joined up on some old mining roads again. We followed those back toward the main Jeep road. And that’s where we made our wrong turn. If we’d gone right, we would have hooked back up with Turtleback Wash and, from there, we could have found easy trails back to our house. But we went left, following the Jeep road back toward where we’d bushwacked down the mountainside.

How do I know all this? It isn’t because I have an excellent sense of direction and keen eye for landmarks. My sense of direction is good but my eye for landmarks sucks. That’s one of the reasons I had my GPS with me. And my GPS has a moving map with the local topo maps loaded in. I could see exactly where we were and exactly where we needed to go to avoid bushwhacking.

But Mike wasn’t interested in any of that. “We’re not in a hurry,” he told me.

Well, I wasn’t in a hurry, but I was interested in getting home. Especially since most of our water was gone and I was worried about Janet’s dogs, who seemed to have some trouble keeping up.

So we went left down the road. There was a gate across the road and Mike opened it so we could all go through. And we continued along the wash while the hills rose ever taller on both sides of us. Soon, we were riding into a narrow canyon. And then the canyon ended with a steep rocky cliff carved out by the force of water over thousands of years.

Dead end.

Flume in a Dead End CanyonWe paused there to give the dogs more water and explore the cliff face. There was a neat shelf where you could imagine water gathering in a pool after coming down a flume. (This photo doesn’t do the place justice.) The horses got goofy in the narrow area and Steve’s horse almost ran off. So we mounted up and backtracked, looking for a place where we could — dare I say it? — bushwhack over the ridges to the north.

So the bushwhacking began again. This time, the hills were steeper and, for some reason I can’t comprehend, we managed to get separated. Steve was the first to get down to the wash on the other side. Hans made it soon afterward. Then Mike and I, together. Janet was trapped on top of the ridge, unable to find a safe way down. I think the problem was that none of the ways down looked safe and Janet just happened to be a lot more cautious than the rest of us. So Steve rode back up and she followed him back down.

More bushwhacking. I really don’t like it. Cherokee, my horse, managed to cut his nose on a tree or something, so he wound up with a bloody nose. Janet’s dogs were definitely trailing behind. We stopped to give them water again and pretty much finished off all the water. We’d been out for about five hours.

We finally climbed onto a ridge and saw a familiar Jeep trail ahead of us. A few moments later, we were on the trail. We took turns leading the way. Soon, we were coming back through the gate by my neighbor’s house.

We unsaddled the horses and hosed ours down. (Cherokee hates getting hosed, but he really needed it. Of course, he got us back by rolling in horse manure right after his “bath.”) Hans and his horse hurried home while Janet and Steve put their horses in one of our corrals and joined us up at the house for drinks. Trixie went home. Janet’s dogs were walking on very sore feet. They admitted to us that their dogs had become “couch potatoes.” Our dog, Jack, was obviously tired, but didn’t seem quite as sore.

According to my GPS, we’d travelled 10.6 miles in about 3-1/2 hours of riding with about 1-1/2 hours of non-movement time. (I figure that Jack the Dog and Trixie must have covered at least 50% more distance.) Our average speed was 3 MPH; our top speed (on a gallop, I suppose) was just over 10 MPH.

This morning, it was me who was sore. You don’t realize how many muscles you use when you ride a horse. I think I can feel every one of mine.

Back in the Saddle

My Ducati comes out of the shop and hits the road.

Before I started flying, before I started horseback riding, I learned to ride a motorcycle. In fact, it was one of the four goals I set for myself when I was in my 20s. (The goals were: learned to ride a motorcycle, learn to fly a helicopter, learn to speak Spanish fluently, and learn to play the piano. I got the first two done and haven’t done much with the others. But I have added a fifth goal: learn to juggle.)

My first motorcycle was a 1980 Honda CB400 Hawk. It was a standard bike and although it was 11 years old when I bought it, it only had 421 miles on it. The previous owner, a woman, had been diagnosed with cancer not long after buying the bike and had died soonafterward. Her husband, a motorcycle dealer, had held onto it for years before finally selling it to me. The bike was nice and good for learning. But I soon wanted something a little sportier.

I found that something at an Americade motorcycle rally at Lake George, NY one year. I went for a test ride with Yamaha and rode one of their Seca IIs. It was a 600cc bike with an upright riding position but sporty fairings. Later that year — 1992 — I bought one. (Oddly enough, the Yamaha dealer was next door to a BMW dealer and Mike bought his second bike there the same day. We certainly made a few folks green when we showed up at a motorcycle camping trip along the Delaware River on two brand new bikes.)

I liked that bike. I took it on a trip that Mike and I made from our New Jersey home down Skyline Drive and the Blue Ridge Parkway into Tennesee. From there, we rode east to the coast and rode up the barrier islands — taking a few ferries along the way — on our way home. That was a camping trip; you wouldn’t believe how much gear we were able to bring along. Later, I got Givi luggage for it — expensive, Italian hard luggage that’s perfect for long trips. And a Corbin seat, of course. Comfort is important.

But I fell out of like with that bike on another one of our motorcycle camping trips with the gang. The ride was to a campground in the Finger Lakes district of New York. In trying to keep up with the guys, I found the top end of the bike. There’s nothing so disheartening as turning the throttle and finding that it won’t turn anymore as the guys you’re riding with start to leave you behind. I kept up okay, but I wasn’t a happy camper. I needed a new bike.

By that time, it was 1995 or 1996. I went to my local motorcycle dealer and, on a whim, test rode a Ducati Monster. I was very impressed, especially when I turned the throttle what I thought was a conservative amount and almost pulled a wheelie. Egads! That bike had testosterone! Of course, I didn’t like the styling of the Monster. I wanted something sportier looking. So I wound up with a Ducati 900 SS CR. (The letters stand for SuperSport Cafe Racer.)

This ain’t your auntie’s motorcycle. This is a street-legal race bike. It’s absolutely terrible at speeds below 25 MPH, making it a real drag to ride in city traffic. But get the RPMs over 4500 on a twisty mountain road, and you’re in for the ride of your life.

That’s if you can ride it.

I got pretty good at riding it. Leaning into the tight turns, keeping the RPMs high, keeping my hand and foot off the brakes. Downshift to slow down — that bike is made for engine braking. Not that the Brembo brakes do a bad job at slowing things down when you need them to.

I made only three customizations on the bike. First, I replaced the painfully uncomfortable seat with a Corbin saddle. Second, I had the gears changed slightly to make it easier to shift — I can’t remember exactly what they did, but it really helped out when I had to ride slowly. And third, I replaced the stock mirrors, which did a great job showing me my shoulders and arms, with aftermarket mirrors that actually showed the road behind me.

Not long after buying the bike, we moved to Arizona. I brought both bikes — the Ducati, for sport riding and the Yamaha for touring — with me. (The Honda was long gone; I sold it when I bought the Yamaha.) We did a lot of riding on Yarnell Hill, White Spar Road, and Mingus Mountain. But that’s all the interesting riding there was around here.

I remember when a friend of ours from back east came for a visit and rented a BMW for the day. We rode on a 350-mile loop on some of the nicest back roads in central Arizona. I took the Ducati and had a blast. But my shoulders were sore for the next few days. That bike just isn’t made for touring.

We also went on a trip with Chrome Caballeros. They do motorcycle camping tours. I rode the Ducati and Mike rode his BMW; all the other guys in the group rode Harleys. (They wore the Harley clothes, too. What’s that all about?) I took the bike as far northwest as Zion National Park and as far east as Page. One day, we rode over 300 miles. But I was in better shape then and didn’t stay sore for long.

Over time, I rode less and less. I started horseback riding instead. Then I started flying. The motorcycles spent some time in a storage shed, then moved to my hangar. The batteries always seemed to be dead when I wanted to ride them. The Yamaha needed work on the fuel system; I had it taken care of, then put it back in the hangar. Time passed.

This past autumn, I took the bikes out to ride them. The Yamaha wouldn’t stay running. The Ducati was leaking fuel from its muffler. Both bikes needed attention and I was neglecting them.

So we brought them to Dan. You may have read about Dan in another article here. He does motorcycles, too. In fact, he’s a Harley guy (although I don’t hold that against him).

I picked up the Ducati on Wednesday.

“Did you take it for a ride?” I asked Dan.

“Yeah,” he said. “That bike is fast. It surprised me.”

I didn’t say what I was thinking: heck, it’s not a Harley.

I rode it on 93 to burn the oil that had been in the muffler out of the system. It rode good. I came down Vulture Mine Road from 93 to 60, following a car. The speedometer said I was doing 70. It didn’t feel that fast and I doubted that the car in front of me would be doing 70 on that road, so I figured the speedometer was screwed up. Then I put it back in the hangar.

I had it out again today. I stopped at the airport for a latte and some chatting at Stan’s Latte Cafe. Dave volunteered to lead me down 60 toward Aguila at a steady 65 MPH to test the speedometer. We did this little test and the speedometer registered 70. (I guess I should have trusted my speedometer a bit more than I did on Wednesday. Some people just drive too fast on Vulture Mine Road.)

When the Yamaha comes back, I’ll have two bikes that need attention again. Maybe it’s time for another road trip. One I can take on two wheels.

A Trip to Macworld Expo in San Francisco

I go to Macworld Expo, see new stuff, party with the Peachpitters, and still manage to find my hotel.

TehatchapiI took an America West — or is that US Airways? — flight from Phoenix to San Francisco on Thursday morning. The flight departed at around 8:15 AM and took off into the east into clear skies. The plane banked to the right until it was heading west, following I-10. I saw familiar sights out my window for most of the flight: Wickenburg, Harquahala Mountain, Salome, Bouse, the Colorado River, the road that runs past Rice and eventually past the north end of Joshua Tree National Park, the airport at Twentynine Palms, Big Bear Lake, Apple Valley, Edwards Air Force Base, and Rosamond. The jet took a route just south of the one I usually take when flying the helicopter from Wickenburg to California’s Central Valley, but because we were cruising at about 30,000 feet, I could see so much more. The lake at Rosamond seemed huge, the windmills on the Tehatchapi’s southern slopes were clearly visible. The pass was socked in on both sides with clouds, but the town of Tehatchapi, on top of the mountain, was perfectly clear (see photo). The central valley was completely filled with low clouds — so low that I don’t think general aviation flight would be possible. It reminded me of my scud-running adventure from last spring’s Georgetown, CA to Wickenburg, AZ flight. The tops of the clouds had a odd pattern to them, like waves far out on the ocean.

I spent the flight catching up with podcasts. Listening, that is — I’ve fallen far behind recording them. I listened to NPR’s story of the day episodes stretching back into mid December. When I was finished with those, I started on Slate Magazine podcasts. I did the crossword puzzle in the airplane magazine and attempted to take some notes for a presentation I needed to do later in the day. Then we started our approach to San Francisco and the mountains along the coast poked up their slopes through the clouds below us. There was green grass on some of the southern slopes; in a month or two, all the hills would be a rich green color there. But I seldom get to the California coast in the spring, so I’m accustomed to seeing the grass when it’s all dried out, making the hills look golden in the California sun.

The plane got to the gate at 9 AM local time. I had just one bag — a small backpack that held my PowerBook, some books I planned to give away at the end of my presentation, and clothes for the overnight stay and next day — so I didn’t have to go through the baggage claim ordeal. The bag was heavy, though, and it only seemed to get heavier as I made my way from the gate to the BART station.

BART, in case you don’t know, stands for Bay Area Rapid Transit. I used to take a cab from the airport to Moscone Hall for the Macworld Show, but I’d heard that BART went from the airport into the city and figured I’d give it a try. It was a relatively pleasant trip in a train car that reminded me more of a Long Island Railroad electrified train car than a New York City Subway car. The seats had upholstery and I don’t think they were quite as clean as they should have been. That gave the car a not-so-nice smell. But it wasn’t bad and I got used to it. I listened to my iPod and looked at the window when the train was above ground. It took about 30 minutes to get to what I thought was my stop: Montgomery Street. In reality, I should have gotten out one stop earlier, at Powell.

I came up from underground, got my bearings, realized I’d erred about the train stop, and started walking. San Francisco reminds me a bit of New York in that it has that “old city” feel. Lots of old buildings, many of which are pretty tall, some narrow streets, noisy traffic, homeless people on the sidewalks. The weather was pleasant and I was soon warming up inside my jacket.

My friend Ray called on my cell phone with a lead on a helicopter job for a construction company working along the Mexican border. I stopped and took notes on a receipt, wondering if I could be fortunate enough to get the job.

Advertising ScootersIt was less than a mile to Moscone and when I got there, I found the place relatively quiet. It was just after 10 AM and most attendees had already gone into the exhibit hall. I used a free pass to go through the registration process and get a badge, then crossed the street and went into the hall. I saw some scooters pulling advertising trailers — an Apple advertising gig, I knew. (I later got a photo of the scooters parked alongside the street.) My first order of business was to dump my jacket and the heavy bag at the Peachpit Press booth. It took me a while to find it, which was quite embarrassing because I actually walked right by it twice. They said it was near the Apple booth and they weren’t kidding. It was right inside one of the doorways to the exhibit hall, adjacent to the Apple booth.

I ran into a few people I knew, including Connie Jeung-Mills, the production person who’d worked on many of my books. I chatted with her while I stuffed my belongings under a table skirt in the booth, reserving an old Adobe canvas bag and note pad to carry while I walked the floor. I couldn’t believe the number of books in the booth. Most of the titles were about graphics and Web publishing, but I also the books I’ve written for them: Tiger, QuickBooks, and the little Visual QuickProject Guides for Word and Excel.

iPod-compatible carsI walked the floor. There was a lot to see, but not nearly as much as in the “old days,” when the show took up both sides of Moscone’s hall. I’ve never seen so many iPod accessories in my life. I think one out of every ten booths was peddling something for an iPod. Talk about trying to cash in on a craze. There were even iPod-compatible cars on display (see photo).

By 2:30, I was ready for a rest. I also needed to create my presentation, which was scheduled for 4 PM. I’m a last-minute person — I always have been — so I left the hall and found a seat on one of the balconies overlooking the hall entrance. It was nice and bright and airy up there and only about half the seats were occupied. Some people chatting, some people using laptops, other people eating or reading. I was very surprised to find that my PowerBook immediately connected to a wireless network when I opened it up. I was able to surf the net and check my e-mail.

I jotted down some notes about topics I thought my audience would be interested in. Mostly “cool features” stuff taken from my soon-to-be-published Informit.com article titled “Five Funky Finder Features.” (They may change the title, so if you go looking for it online, keep that in mind.)

While I worked, a man sitting nearby began complaining about how few seats were available. Two of the four balconies were blocked off, cutting the amount of available seats in half. But that didn’t seem to matter, since there were still empty seats to be had. One woman sitting nearby made the fatal error of acknowledging him. This resulted in him continuing his complaints. Another woman finally said to him, “I’m trying to enjoy my lunch and you’re ruining it.” He kept up for another minute or so before the woman, who was eating some kind of salad out of a Tupperware container, said, “No, I really mean it. Your complaints are ruining my lunch.” He seemed to get it then and he shut up. A while later, he closed up his iBook and went away. The whole exchange had been pretty funny. I was glad the woman had spoken up, though. He’d been quite a whiner and it was good when he finally shut up.

I did my presentation and it went well. I covered it in another blog entry.

Afterward, I met with Nancy and Cliff, two of my editors, for drinks and a bite to eat before the Peachpit Party. We wound up at an ethnic restaurant about two blocks away. Don’t ask me what kind of ethnic restaurant — I really don’t know. We ordered three different tappas dishes and a round of drinks. We talked business for a while — stuff I don’t want to cover here. Cliff left to go to an Apple party. Nancy and I finished our drinks and headed over to the Peachpit party.

Peachpit PartyI saw a bunch of Peachpit authors and editors and drank exactly one vodka martini more than I should have. The problem was, I still hadn’t checked into my hotel and I wasn’t exactly sure where it was. Or what it was called. Although I didn’t feel drunk after the third martini, I knew it was time to stop so I switched to water. Good thing I did. They must have used delayed reaction vodka in those drinks because I didn’t start feeling drunk until I was halfway done with my water. Still, I never got too drunk to realize that there were lots of people worse off than I was. Kim was probably the worst. It was her last day of work for Peachpit and she was partying a bit heartier than she should have.

I dug out the info for my hotel around 11:30, realized it was only about a block away from where Tom and Dori were staying, and walked with them. The walk took us down Market Street, which was surprisingly active with normal people (and a few weirdos) at that time of night. When we went our separate ways at Fourth Street, I felt safe enough to continue that last long block on my own. But it was good to get to my hotel and check in. I think the guys at the desk suspected that I wasn’t exactly sober, but they didn’t comment. I’m sure they’ve seen worse. And I wasn’t too drunk to realize that the guy had forgotten to give back my credit card with my room key.

I stayed at the Hotel Milano on Fifth Street. It’s an old hotel that has been fixed up. My seventh floor room had two windows that looked out across a narrow ventilation shaft to the two windows of a room in the next hallway. The room was big with a small television at one end and the king-sized bed at the other. I got undressed and into bed and watched a Seinfeld rerun for a while before turning off the television and going to sleep.

The only thing I’d forgotten to do was to check and adjust the thermostat. I was cold enough all night to sleep poorly but not cold enough to get up and do something about it. I hate that.

I woke at 5:30 AM local time. (I hate that, too.) I watched some Weather Channel and started work on this bLog entry before showering, getting dressed, and going out for breakfast. I wound up at the Marriott a few blocks away. I had a nice breakfast from the buffet, then walked back to my hotel and wasted more time on my computer. The show didn’t open until 10 AM and there was no reason to rush.

I packed and checked out at 9:30 AM. My bag was heavy, despite the fact that I’d given away the five books I’d brought with me from Arizona and I hadn’t bought anything else. I did have some product literature on board, but not enough to take the weight of five books.

At Moscone, I took a seat on one of the balconies to check my e-mail and my Web sites. The sites had been down the day before because of a computer glitch, but they were back online that morning. At 10 AM, I was back on the show floor, stashing my bag under a table at the Peachpit booth.

I bought a SightFlex stand for my iSight camera. Heavy.

I called America West and asked about an earlier flight. It was fully booked.

The Apple BoothI bothered an Apple booth guy for a demo of iWeb. It’s a cool little software package and I hope Peachpit lets me write a book about it. The guy who gave the demo was a software engineer and had written Pages, Apple’s word processing program. (I don’t know why they didn’t have him demo that.) I told him I used Word and had been using it for years. He told me that if I tried Pages, I’d switch. So I’ll try it again next week and see how I do with it. Word really is overkill sometimes. But, at the same time, I’m not too thrilled with the idea of software that works more like a page layout program than a word processor without giving you the control over page elements. If I recall, that was my main gripe about Pages.

The Apple BoothThe Apple Booth, by the way, was enormous. I think it gets bigger every year. There’s always a huge theater area (see photo) and this year there were 40-foot high “posters” of the new MacBook Pro (terrible name!) laptop and Intel processor iMac. I felt like a Lilliputian as I walked around the booth.

I wandered around the hall some more, killing time.

I ran into Sandee Cohen, Ted Landau, and Tonya Engst at the Peachpit booth and spent some time chatting with each of them. Then I grabbed my bag and made my exit. It was 11:30. I figured I’d stop by the Apple store before grabbing a bite to eat.

I dropped off my bag at a hotel along the way, checking it with a bellman. It felt good to get that damn thing off my back.

After looking around the Apple Store, I spent about an hour in Cody’s, a very nice bookstore near Market Street, not far from Virgin and the Apple Store. They were expecting President Carter as a speaker later in the day and the audience seats were already starting to fill with people who had nothing better to do with their time than spend the day sitting in a folding chair in the basement of a building, surrounded by books.

I walked up to Union Square, passing a handful of panhandlers and more than a handful of tourists. The cable car runs down Powell Street there and there are always a lot of tourists around. The area itself reminds me of lower Broadway in New York, with lots of discount luggage stores and shops that sell t-shirts and other tourist favorites. Kind of sleezy without being sleezy enough to scare people away.

Then I made my way to the Nikko, thinking about sushi for lunch. I was just about to go into the Japanese restaurant there when I noticed a Chinese dim sum restaurant across the street. I went there instead and had a very good lunch.

By that time, I’d had enough of San Francisco and was ready to head out to the airport. You know, I’ve been to San Francisco dozens of times and, unless you have a lot of time on your hands and comfortable walking shoes on your feet, it isn’t such a great place. I had neither and was more interested in finding a comfortable place to wait for my flight home than shopping or even walking around the city.

I retrieved my bag, gave the bellman a tip, and descended into the BART station. A while later, I was on a train bound for Daly City. I changed trains and got on another one for the airport. I listened to podcasts the entire time: Slate magazine and, when I was finished with those, Slate Explainer. The usual at the airport: get a boarding pass, go through security, find the gate, settle into a seat. I found a seat by an electric outlet and used it to charge up my PowerBook. For some reason, I expected to use it on the plane.

The plane was completely booked. Overbooked, in fact. They offered $400 worth of travel for volunteers, but I wasn’t interested. There was a woman in my seat when I boarded and, since it was my seat and not hers, she gave it up. When all the seats were filled, they closed the doors and we got underway.

I was asleep within ten minutes of departure.

My Presentation at the Peachpit Booth

I give a demo on Mac OS X 10.4 Cool Features

I was at Macworld Expo on Thursday and Friday. I’d gone primarily to gather information for a book I’ll be starting next week. But while I was there, I did a quick presentation at the Peachpit Press booth.

Peachpit has one of the nicest booths at the show these days. It’s a big booth with lots of tables full of books. Behind a wall, there’s a small theater where authors give presentations in front of about 20 chairs. I suspect that a lot of people sit in on presentations just to get off their feet for a while, but I’d like to think that some of them come just to see a particular author.

They wired me up with a wireless microphone (huh?) and I plugged my 12″ PowerBook into their projection system. When it appeared that no more than half the seats would be occupied, I started my presentation.

You have to understand that the more I plan for a presentation, the worse it is. So I don’t plan much anymore. Instead, I kind of “wing it.” I’ve been winging it for years now and I haven’t embarrassed myself yet.

My preparation for this presentation consisted of about 45 minutes seated in the Moscone Hall lobby, sucking at the Internet from a free wi-fi “connection” that was floating about the hall. I looked up my articles for Informit, which are also on the Peachpit Press Web site, and chose a few topics from them. What I really wanted to talk about was the article I’d written called “Five Funky Finder Features,” but it hadn’t been published yet. Fortunately, I found a copy of it on my hard drive, so I noted the topics on a steno pad. Then I thought of a few more topics to talk about, jotted them down, and was done.

I started off by introducing myself and telling them the story about how the Mac changed my life. (If you haven’t heard that story, you might want to search these blogs once they’re all online. I’m sure I wrote about it somewhere.) I told them about how the Peachpit Press and Informit.com Web sites are great sources of free information and even showed them my page on the Peachpit site to prove it.

Then I launched into my topics, using the notes I’d jotted down to keep me from forgetting what I’d planned to talk about. I answered questions as they came up — the hardest part was hearing what people were asking. (The hall is so darn loud and my ears were still stuffed from the plane ride.) After telling them about something, I’d ask whether they knew about it and was very surprised to find that I was teaching them new stuff. That was the goal, so I succeeded.

I showed them some of my favorite widgets, too. And how to set up iCal to show birthdays from people in your Address Book. This will be in a future Informit.com article.

The last thing I showed them was how you could connect a Garmin GPS to a Mac using a PC cable and adapter, then show waypoints and routes on the maps and satellite photos using Terrabrowser. The idea was to prove that Mac users could do just as many cool things with their computers as PC users. I think I got the message across.

The seats filled up gradually. Some people left, others took their place. One woman, who was pretty new to Macs, probably didn’t realize that she was my first choice to get a free copy of my Tiger book (heck, I didn’t want to carry them back home). She left before the end and missed out. I gave out that book and the two Visual QuickProjects I’d brought along at the end of my presentation.

It had been fun and I was glad I did it. Peachpit videoed the whole thing and I think they’ll be releasing it as a video podcast on their Web site. When I find out more, I’ll add a link on this Web site.